The Spirit Guides
by Silentkey
Summary: Hellboy has a new mystery to solve (based on the movie) Ch.4 added
1. Monster menace

This is my first shot at fanfiction so any comments are welcome.

Noise.

Painful, mind wrenching noise.

It was too much. It flooded her ears, her body, her _soul_ with unspeakable pain. She had to get away....had to get away.

'_Come here, child'_

A voice? It beckoned her further, promising quiet and peace. She had to go to it.

'_This way child'_

Clutching her head in her hands, she stumbled across busy sidewalk. The voice would comfort her, take her away from all of this terrible noise. All she had to do was follow it. Through blurry eyes she noticed people were beginning to stare and gather around her. All the while talking, shuffling, crunching, tapping, spilling more and more vibrations and sound into her already throbbing head. Upon the small of her back, she felt the unwelcome weight of a hand.....don't touch me.

Then all of her agitation, all of her pain, surged into the presence of that spiteful weight on her back. It felt like a burning iron, that she couldn't get away from. This was the reason she hurt, this was the reason she had to get away. A surge of violence and hatred flooded through her like nothing she had ever felt before. Make the hand go away....Go Away.

_DON'T TOUCH ME!_

Everything went black

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Most of Boston slept peacefully on this cold fall night, but, like in all cities, some were astir. Even in the looming witching hour, the city drunks, insomniacs, and nightclubbers walked the streets, clueless to the danger of ambling across deserted roads at such a baleful hour. These, like the rest of humankind, were too caught up in their own worlds to notice anything beyond their noses. Much less any real and apparent danger. Perhaps this was why most of humankind was so ignorant of their near constant peril. Perhaps this was why humans never paid attention to the stories and folklore of monsters and ghouls until, of course, one of these creatures was feeding upon their innards. And perhaps this was why no one paid any attention to a rather clean, rather large dump truck, as it drove across the vomit encrusted streets of Boston.

The old adage, 'don't judge a book by its cover,' would serve well in this situation, since inside this rather clean, rather large dump truck was not trash, but an enclosed chamber, housing objects of dark magic, and the tools used to defend against darkness. The back wall of the room was lined with animal cages filled with every creature imaginable and around them stood cabinets and chests full of reliquaries and other holy items. All the items inside this small quarter were designed to fight off the forces of evil, but the most unique of all of these weapons, and the best defense against such abominations sat on a bench along the side of the small transport, and was currently snoring.

"Red.....Red wake up, your snoring again!" came an insistent voice from the other side of the transport. Abe Sapien, a thin blue aquatic demi human, sat on the opposite bench, his big black eyes etched in distaste as he contemplated his sleeping comrade while eating the last of his dinner.

Hellboy, as most called him, sat asleep, slack jawed; oblivious to his partner's discomfort. His bright red tail twitched as he let out another obnoxiously loud snore which broke the last straw with Abe.

"Hellboy, **wake up**!"

Abe punctuated his command by throwing his half eaten rotten egg at Hellboy with deadly accuracy. Hellboy's eyes shot open as the stinking blob hit him square in the face with a sharp _smack!_

"Jeezus! What the hell was that for Blue?!"

The back of the transport swayed as Red evacuated his seat, coughing and sputtering, trying to fish out the putrid egg which had managed to roll into one of the pockets of his leather coat. After a few minutes of cursing, Hellboy retrieved the egg and threw it hatefully at Abe's feet. Abe, being the fish-man that he was, plucked it up off the floor and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

"You are one sick sucker Blue," Hellboy grumbled.

"I beg to differ Red. I've seen you shove some fairly sickening things into your mouth, but that's for another time; it seems we've arrived."

As if on Abe's cue, the transport shuddered to a stop.

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As far as BPRD missions go, this one couldn't be classified as normal (as normal as these missions can be). No relics, black magic, or creepy baddies seemed to be involved. It seemed as if the creature in question just popped up out of nowhere in the middle of a busy street, mangled a few bystanders, then booked it out of there. luckily, bureau agents already stationed in Boston followed it immediately. After an agonizing chase, a squad of agents cornered the fiend in an abandoned warehouse just outside of Boston.

Four hours later, Hellboy, Abe, and Agent John Meyers found themselves in front of that warehouse, sitting through a debriefing from Agent Clay.

"Have ya sent anyone in after it?" asked Hellboy

"Yes," answered Clay, "but no one has come back yet. None of 'em were wearing trackers, so we have no idea where they are."

"How long ago were they sent in?" Meyers asked

"About two hours ago."

Hellboy sighed and stood up. He knew the poor suckers were probably dead. It would be better if he just did his job and retrieved the bodies as quickly as possible.

"Hey Abe. See if ya can't get a reading off this warehouse," said Hellboy lazily.

"Very well," Abe stood from his seat and walked over to one of the rusty sides of the building. Pulling off his black glove, Abe conditioned his mind for his task. Once ready, he stuck his finned hand onto the wall and concentrated, closing his two sets of eyelids over his dark eyes.

After what seemed like forever, Abe finally spoke, "I sense nothing"

"What?" exclaimed Hellboy in disbelief, "You mean nothings in their? It's escaped?"

"No," corrected Abe, "I would have told you if there was no presence within. Hmm. There definitely is one," Abe paused to adjust his hand, "but there is no emotion, no thought, just....nothing

"You see, most of the creatures I read pulsate hatred or evil. Even if it was a gentle demon (Hellboy snorted) I would still be able to sense it because of the emotions and thoughts it exudes, hence, giving away its position or intensions," Abe released his hold upon the warehouse wall, "This creature, however, seems to have no awareness, not even of itself. So naturally, I cannot be expected to tell you where it is or why it's there."

"Are you finished yet?" Hellboy asked, oozing boredom as he loaded his gun, the Samaritan, with the ultra heavy duty rounds (the works), "'cause I've got a monster ta kill. And if its in there, I'll sure as hell find it."


	2. In the warehouse

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the original character and never will.....Please don't sue me....

Hellboy's team entered the abandoned warehouse with guns drawn. Hellboy stopped in the entrance, puffing on the stump of a cigar, and surveyed the playing field.

The warehouse itself was huge. Its dark, dank walls housed thousands of boxes and wooden crates, all lined up in misshapen rows. The effect was a hell for an search and destroy force like them; the high stacked crates created a honeycomb effect. One could get lost too easily.

"Red, this place is too big to search as one team," said Myers.

"Right...Myers, Robertson, start searching the left side of the warehouse. Clay, you come with me"

Hellboy watched Myers lead Robertson through the rows of crates before turning around and proceeding the other way. A few yards into the crate forest, the lighting near the entrance began to wane in the inky blackness of the building. Clay turned on his flashlight to help penetrate the darkness. Hellboy used his own natural night vision to navigate.

"Hey Red, you anything?"

"No, nothing"

As he walked farther into the catacomb, Clay's ears picked up a small sound.

"You hear that?" he asked

"Yeah."

The noise was barely audible; a rhythmic sucking sound, just beyond the walls of crates.

Exploring further, the beam of Clay's flashlight fixated on the source of the sound. It was one of the missing agents. He lay on the floor, his chest a bloody mess; the sucking noise was a product of a punctured lung, as the man tried desperately to breathe. Laying next to him was the second agent. He showed no signs of life as he lay on the concrete floor, broken like a rag doll.

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Agents Myers and Robertson found themselves engulfed in the same darkness with only their flashlights for aid. Traversing the warehouse proved to be harder than expected. After a good ten minutes, the team had seen nothing and had already navigated more twists, turns, and dead ends than they could count.

As they turned a corner, Robertson halted and place a restraining hand on Myers, silently telling him not to move.

John Myers' gaze swiveled up into the rafters, where Agent Robertson's light shone. He saw what had caught Robertson's attention. A black shadow, very still among the beams and support of the old warehouse, was watching them.

Robertson raised his gun to aim, but the shadow picked up the movement and darted away so quickly it as if it were never there.

The two agents gave chase immediately, searching the rafters and crate walls with their flashlights. Myers slowed, letting Robertson go ahead of him to continue the pursuit, while he contacted Hellboy on his two-way radio.

"Red, this is Myers, we've got a sighting. I repeat, we have a sighting."

There was static then a gruff 'I'm on my way' from the other end. Myers look up; Robertson was out of sight.

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Robertson found himself at another dead end with no sign of the quarry. He tried to remember how may turns he had taken after leaving Myers. Robertson passed his flashlight beam down the dark row and saw nothing familiar. While passing his light over a far wall of crates, his eye caught a slight movement. With quickened breathe he raised his gun. He wasn't alone.

Trying to catch up to the creatures movements, Robertson circled franticly, passing his light over the walls and rafters. Then a noise; a soft thump a few feet behind him. He turned around in a panic, but nothing was there. As he lower his gun a hot breath on his neck told him that he had made a fatal mistake.

He shouldn't have turned around.

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"Robertson....Robertson, do you copy?"

Myers jogged through the warehouse maze, trying to catch up to his partner.

"Damn it, Robertson, where the hell are you?!"

As Myers cut a corner his foot caught on a heavy object on the ground, sending him careening to the floor. A feeling of dread fell upon him as he landed in sticky puddle. Shining his flashlight behind him, he saw that what he'd tripped over were the shredded remnants of his comrade, and the liquid he was laying in was Robertson's congealing blood.

Myers felt the bile rise in his throat. Pulling himself up into a sitting position, he shone his light down the row. What he saw made him forget about the corpse in the middle of the floor.

It sat, crouched on all fours, not five feet away, as still as granite in the wake of the flashlight's beam. Myers first insane thought was that it was a feline escaped from the zoo, but its sheer size forced him to realize what was really there. It was massive, with paws the size of dinner plates, and was easily 9 feet long. The creature was covered in a thick yellow fur, and was spotted from the top of its head to the tip of its tale. Its body was structured to put its weight onto its hind legs and stand like a human, and the digits on its front paws were elongated to grasp prey or objects. But while its body looked like a cross between man and beast, its head kept the feral wildness of a big cat.

It whiskers twitched as it shook off the surprise of the light. Bearing its fangs it resumed its hunt. It took soundless steps as it moved past the gore on the floor toward Myers. Myers raised his gun in a panic and pulled the trigger.

_BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!_

The fiend jumped sideways, dodging Myers fire and lowered its ears and emitted a feral growl.

Knowing it would take too long to reload, Myers dropped his gun and searched for another weapon on the floor of the warehouse. In the darkness, his hand wrapped around the cool steel of a pipe. Just as the monster lunged, Myers swung, hitting the man-beast across the jaw. He stumbled to his feet as the monster recovered. He swung the pipe at the creature again, but it raised up and grabbed the pipe in its paw, ripping it out of his grasp, and throwing it out of Myers' reach.

Backing him into a corner, the monster readied itself for the kill, sitting back on its haunches, eager to pounce. Myers closed his eyes, not wanting to see the monster's maw as it ripped out his gut. He waited for what seemed like an eternity, but the pain never came. He opened an eye to find the creature looking at something of in the darkness.

"Hey now, your a pretty big kitty aren't you?"

It was Hellboy, walking up to confront the beast. The creature turned away from Myers and stalked towards Hellboy, teeth bared.

"That's right Fluffy. Show me what you got."

The beast lunged; Hellboy dodged to the right and delivered a blow the beast's side with his stone fist. The impact knocked the creature into a crate wall, demolishing the barrier into a sea of splinters.

The beast shook itself out of the pile of wood and stood shakily. Blood dripped down the beast's fur in rivulets, spilling onto the floor. A large piece of shattered board was embedded deep in its abdomen.

Hellboy chuckled. The rest of the fight was going to be too easy.

"Do you give up yet?"

In answer, the beast grasped the wooden spike and ripped it from its belly.

"Well, I gotta admit, you've got spunk," said Hellboy as he raised his right fist, "but it's lights out for you."

Before the monster could react, Hellboy slammed his right fist into its head. The creature sailed back into the slivers of wood of the busted crates, out cold.

"You alright kid?" Hellboy asked, walking over to help Myers up.

Myers nodded dumbly looking over at the creature who had nearly eaten him alive.

"Well, that's all she wrote," said Hellboy, cocking back the hammer of the Samaritan.

Hellboy turned to finish the job but stopped in confusion. Where the monster he was about to vanquish should have lied, was instead a young girl, naked and caked in blood.


	3. awake

OK, so this is third chapter of my Hellboy fanfic. I hope whoever reads it will like it and review.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of them and I don't labor under the belief that I do.

The first thing she was aware of was the tangy, sterile smell of a hospital. She struggled to open her eyes, but they felt leaden. In fact, her whole body seemed heavy and lethargic. When she successfully opened her eyes, she found herself laying in a small bed, covered from chin to toe in a cheap green blanket. She wiggled her body from the sudden fear that perhaps it was no longer there. She began with her toes and ankles, then flexing her calves and thighs. Her waist and upper chest seemed to be bound in tight bandages, and gave her some slight pain when she breathed. All her fingers seemed to be in place as well, although obstructed by IVs.

What had happened?

Her ears picked up the faint whirring of machinery to her left. She turned her head and saw, laying in a hospital bed next to her, an unconscious man. He was surrounded by machines, all of them ticking and beeping and graphing every aspect of the his health. Tubes and wires flowed out of the appliances and under the man's bandages and covers. The longer she stared through half lidded eyes, the harder it was to discern the man from the machines. A prim nurse noticed her conscious state and walked over the side of the his bed. She smiled gently at her and closed the bedridden man's privacy curtain.

A few moments later, disembodied voices from the other side of the room caught her attention. They were muffled, barely audible, like she was hearing them through a wall. They were locked in heated discussion. One voice, rustic and deep, muttered something, sending a second voice into a tirade.

"It ripped two Agents to shreds, and Agent Bayler probably won't last the night. It should be disposed of!"

The first voice, "She...not it."

"I don't care! _She_ should at least be locked up in a cell, not being catered to in the infirmary."

"We have nothing to fear from her. Abe's already told us she isn't evil or demonic. Plus, I smacked her around too much for you to worry about her running off maiming people."

The second voice said something more, but her awareness was slipping. The last thing she heard before her eyes drooped shut was the soft whirring of machinery.

The echoing sound of footsteps on the ward's tile floor woke her. She turned her head, feeling more alert than before, to see a smartly dressed old man with wild white hair, walking towards her at a slow gate. He walked with a slight limp and was aided by a glossy black cane. He was accompanied by a doctor with a surgical mask covering his lower face.

She watched the two walk up to her bedside. The old man smiled and shifted a bit closer to her.

"Good evening, My name is Professor Trevor Bruttenholm. I see Ms. Barson," the old man nodded toward a nurse in the corner that she recognized from earlier, "was correct in telling me you were conscious earlier today. This is quite a surprise. You shouldn't be awake yet due to the severity of your injuries." The doctor next to him grunted in confirmation.

Her brow furrowed in confusion, her muddled mind tried to wrap around his words. She had already guessed she had been in some sort of accident, but a _severe_ accident? The thought had never crossed her mind. The Professor noticed the young girl's confusion and fixed her with a stern stare.

"You were hurt badly in Boston. Do you not remember?"

She tried to recall, but she couldn't remember anything past arriving in Boston today, or was it yesterday?

"Well, were lucky we looked you up then aren't we?" Bruttenholm opened a manila folder he'd been carrying under his arm. "Sparrow Wilson," he read aloud, "Born in 1987, orphaned at birth. You arrived in the city of Boston September the thirtieth. That was yesterday."

"Where am I?" Sparrow croaked, her mouth felt like sandpaper.

"You are currently being held in the hospital ward of a military base, Miss Wilson."

Military base? Why was she in a military base. If she was as hurt as the Professor had said she was, why wasn't she in the emergency room of Boston Medical or another local hospital?

"What happened to me?" She implored. "Why am I at a military base?"

Bruttenholm raised a gnarled hand, "We shall discuss your queries shortly. But first, allow Dr. Morton a quick examination of your condition."

Sparrow had an uncanny ability to detect lies, and she saw this one from a mile away. Perhaps it was his shifting eyes, or his harsh grip on his cane, that alerted her. So she wasn't too surprised when Professor Bruttenholm managed to slip out of the hospital ward undetected, while the silent Dr. Morton poked and prodded her abdomen. She didn't see Bruttenholm for the rest of the day.

The day after meeting the strange professor, Sparrow's doctor checked her wounds again. He lifted the bandages around her torso to reveal dark purple and black bruises across her abdomen. Dr. Morton seemed more than a little dumbfounded as he prodded the line of stitches that made their way across her belly. After giving her numerous tests and scans, the doctor, bewildered at what he called _very_ rapid recovery, told her that she was free to leave the ward.

Sparrow Wilson was a restless person by nature. Ever since she had been old enough to walk, she had ceaselessly wandered anywhere her legs would take her. The orphanages that had housed her ( and there had been many) had dubbed her a born runaway. She'd escaped from her first orphanage at nine. By the time she'd turned thirteen, she had run away from more foster homes and orphanages than she could count, merely because the shelters weren't roomy enough for proper pacing.

It was this restlessness that spurred her into action the day after being released from the infirmary. The doctor had bandaged up her belly, given her a pair of crutches and some heavy-duty pain medication. He told her to put as little weight as possible on her pelvis. Something about it 'not being strong enough to support her,' and, 'extreme pain,' and 'bruised organs.' Sparrow didn't pay that much attention. She was too psyched about leaving the boring ward to listened to medical terms she couldn't pronounce, let alone understand.

So, accompanied by an armed guard, she had hobbled away on her crutches to her assigned room, which, once there, looked more like a cell. The door leading to it was made of solid steel, and even her muscular escort had to struggle to open it. There were no windows in her room and it was furnished with only the bare necessities: a bed, TV, ventilation, bathroom, and a closet with various garments. Not one to complain, and having had worse, she accepted it graciously and limped to the twin bed situated on the far wall of the room.

Her escort, finding everything suitable, left the room and closed the door behind him. Sparrow registered the faint click of a lock, and squirmed a bit at the thought of being caged. Tiredness saved her from stewing on it too long. She dropped her crutches on the floor and plopped down on the bed. She was asleep before she could draw the covers around her frame.

The next day, Sparrow discovered the door unlocked and decided, crutches or no, she was going outside. After finding some clean clothes, she pushed the heavy door open and slipped out. She was, at first, interested with her new surroundings. Though after a few minutes of wandering, the bland concrete walls of the base grew monotonous. She was spared total boredom by various items and artifacts displayed along the corridors. Each artifact had a short explanation attached to it. Most, Sparrow found, were of a biblical nature, but some were steeped in ancient folklore, holding gory, mysterious pasts; these interested her the most.

While traversing a corridor devoid of any relics, Sparrow's nose caught the scent of aromatic food, coming from just around the corner. Her stomach grumbled, demanding she investigate the smell further. Her rumbling tummy brought her to the entrance of a small food court filled with base personnel on their lunch break.

Sparrow hobbled through the entrance, but felt immediately uncomfortable. Some men and women in the mess hall had stopped their chatter and were staring at her distrustfully. Some had turned to their peers and whispered indiscreetly. Finding her appetite had suddenly vanished, she turned around to leave but stopped when she heard a voice call out behind her.

"There you are! I was wandering when they'd let you out of the infirmary." A fit, young man walked over to her, "Come on, lets sit down."

The young man led her to a small table in the corner of the food court. He courteously helped her into her seat.

"I'm sorry. People around here are always suspicious of newbies," He said as he propped her crutches on the side of the table, "Your Sparrow Wilson, right?" She nodded mutely, "I'm Agent John T. Myers, but you can call me John."

Sparrow blushed a bit, not used to such good manners coming from a handsome young man.

"Well, call me Sparrow," she answered.

John smiled, "Would you like me to get you something to eat? We may not be friendly, but we do have some excellent grub."

"That would be nice."

Myers nodded and told her he'd be right back. Sparrow felt her blush brighten as she watched him walk off to the long line of buffet tables. He returned a few minutes later with mounds of food and set a tray in front of Sparrow with three full plates.

"I didn't know what you'd like, so I got a bit of everything," said Myers as he picked a sandwich up off his plate.

Sparrow stared disbelievingly at her selection. Myers really had gotten a bit of everything. There were slices of pizza, sausages, fruits of all kind, and even a bit of Chinese food. None of it looked second rate either. This food was the kind she'd stared longingly at through restaurant windows...until she was shooed away by the managers, of course. She felt anxiety rear its head in the back of her mind as the thought occurred to her that this stuff may not be free.

"I-I have no money."

"Join the club," Myers grinned, then took a bite out of his sandwich.

Sparrow smiled as well. Emboldened by Myers' candid response, Sparrow picked up a slice of pizza, folded it in half, shoved nearly a quarter of it in her mouth, and chomped down. Myers looked at her in amusement.

"Whaaa?" Sparrow tried to articulate.

"It's just...you eat like a friend of mine."

Sparrow swallowed and asked playfully, "Is that a bad thing, _John_?"

"Nah. Just funny. That's all."

"This friend of yours, does he work here too? Would I have seen him in the halls?"

"Trust me, you would know if you've seen him out in the halls," Myers said, as if it was a private joke, "Do you ever read the tabloids?"

"A bit. Why?"

Myers contemplated for a moment, before replying, "Ah, no reason."

Sparrow took the hint and dropped the subject, even though she was curious. The rest of their lunch was filled with pleasant small talk, until Myers brought up the subject of the elusive Professor Bruttenholm.

"He's a great man, Professor Bruttenholm. You've met him, right?" Inquired John.

Sparrow finished off the rest of her sausage, chewed thoughtfully before answering, "I've met him, but I don't know what to think about him. He won't tell me anything, or rather, I can't find him to _make_ him tell me anything."

Myers fixed Sparrow with a stern stare.

"Bruttenholm has the best judgment I've ever seen. And he always has a reason for doing, or not doing, something. I trust him with my life. And I know you don't have a reason to, but trust him too."

Sparrow frowned, "He was supposed to tell me where I am, why I'm her, all that stuff, a couple days ago."

"Then he's keeping you in the dark right now for a reason."

"Well, couldn't you just tell me where I am? What harm could that do? Please, John," She implored.

Myers felt his determination crumble. If there were two things that always got him, it was girls and puppy dog eyes, and of all his luck, this one had both.

"Alright," Myers said, feeling disgusted with his lack of resolve.

Sparrow's eyes lit up and she leaned in eagerly.

"You already know that this is a government facility right?" Sparrow nodded, "Well, what I can tell you about this place is that it's very...unique. There are things here that you won't see anywhere else. Things the government doesn't want you to know about."

Sparrow looked about ready to jump out of her seat with excitement, "You mean like aliens, and monsters, and Area 51 kinda stuff?"

Myers grimaced, "No...well....sort of, I guess....but...that's all I can say so-"

He was cut off as a loud buzzing noise erupted from intercoms stationed around the court, followed by a voice heard in every sci-fi movie: "Squad B, report to platform 31. I repeat: squad B, report to platform 31."

"Well, that's me." Said Myers. He stood up and scooted in his chair.

Sparrow looked up at him in horror.

"You're leaving me here?!"

"Well, I could walk you to your room, if your more comfortable with that."

Myers helped Sparrow with her crutches and led her out of the cafeteria. A crowd had gathered around the exit. Some were finishing there lunch, others, Sparrow assumed, were getting ready to head to _platform 31_. Myers placed a hand behind her back and helped her swerve in and out of the sea of people. Off to her left, Sparrow's ear picked up the muffled whisper of a woman.

"Is that her? Is that who did that to Robertson?"

Myers heard as well, and his grip tightened.

Another voice: "Is she the one who put Bayler in the infirmary?"

"Yeah. They say he isn't gonna make it."

Sparrow's mind flashed to the ward. To the man hooked up to all the machines. To the nurse closing the privacy curtain.

"Man, and there letting her walk around out here?"

"She should be locked up."

"After what she did to Robertson and Tack, she should get worse than that."

Myers picked up the pace and got her away from the crowd. They walked in silence down the now empty hall. Sparrow's gaze didn't leave the floor.

Myers broke the silence, "I know your confused right now. But just tough it out, ok?"

Sparrow nodded, still staring at the floor as it passed by her crutches. She had a sick feeling in her stomach. Something terribly wrong had happened to her, and no one would tell her what it was.

Sparrow rounded a tight corner, too lost in thought to watch where she was going, and smacked into a hard body. She stumbled backward and lost her grip on her crutches. She felt herself falling, but a hand, stronger and larger than Myers', grasped her by the arm and hauled her back onto her feet.

"Jesus Red! Be a bit more careful would you?"

Sparrow regained her senses and looked up. At least two feet above her, a big red face stared down at her in amusement. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers, because before her stood an honest to God, real demon all the religious nuts always ranted about. She had never believed them, but now, staring up past a barrel chest into golden eyes, all those things the preachers and evangelists said about fire and brimstone didn't seem like such a stupid concept. Though Sparrow was definitely not great in stature (she'd been overjoyed when she finally reach 5 feet), the demon before her could have sent the toughest linebacker into cowering sobs, so imposing was his height and physical strength. The monster opened its mouth and uttered one word:

"Boo."

Sparrow's face contorted into absolute terror. The demon must have gotten the right reaction from her, because he released her arm and let out a loud guffaw.

"Don't worry kid, I ain't gonna eat you." He said, giving her a slap on the back that made her lose her balance again.

The demon's was sarcastic and uncultured, and reminded her of a normal, everyday guy. Her body loosened, faintly registering that he meant no harm.

"So Myers, is this the kid from the infirmary?" He asked casually.

"Yeah, I'm escorting her to her quarters."

"Escorting, huh?" He said as he lit the stub of a cigar he'd fished out of one of the pockets of his coat, "You got a name, kid?"

"Y-Yeah. It-It's Sparrow, sir."

"Hellboy." She smiled brightly at him, relieved that she'd finally met someone with a weirder first name than her own. He thrust his giant left hand in front of her. She placed her own in his and he engulfed it in a mighty handshake. She noticed that as big as his left hand was, it looked stunted compared to his right one, which seemed to be made of some kind of stone.

He let go of her hand and turned to Myers.

"Hurry up and get to the platform, ok? The guys there always get pissy when I get there before you. They act like I always do something to ya."

"Last time you locked me in a broom closet...for two days" Myers said tartly

"Did I?" Hellboy asked mischievously. He walked past them and waved a hand goodbye.

Sparrow watched his hulking figure amble down the hall, his bright red tail swishing behind him.

"He's a mess," Myers said in an exasperated tone.

"I think he's great," Sparrow said as she watched his figure disappear around the corner.


	4. friends in fish

Sorry for not updating sooner. School has been hectic

Disclaimer: I don't own them

John and the demon-man, Hellboy, left the base four days ago. Myers' had told her that they'd be gone a while, 'but not because it's anything dangerous,' he'd assured her, 'only because it's so far away.' Since then, Sparrow had felt dejected and reclusive. She rarely left her room. Two of the only people she knew in this strange underground prison were gone, leaving her to the traps her mind laid for her. She would often find herself thinking of what those nameless people in the hallways had said that day in the food court. They talked as if she were a monster, and their eyes had been so hateful. Her chest gave a horrible lurch forward, wrenching her up from her afternoon sulk. She had to get up, move around. She'd always been able to sort things out better on her feet.

Myer's had told her about Bruttenholm's private library before he'd left, telling her she was welcome to it if she got bored while they were away. Deciding to take him up on his offer, she grabbed her crutches(though it wasn't nearly as hard to move around anymore) and headed of into the halls of gray. Perhaps an excursion through the base would do her some good.

Sparrow followed Myer's directions to the tee, except for a quick detour to peer into a jar of what seemed to be pickled fairies on display down one hall. She eventually found herself in front of an ornate door; one that seemed very out of place situated within the lifeless grays of the concrete stronghold. The oak along the door was polished to a slick gleam. It seemed homely, welcoming almost. Funny, she'd never felt welcome anywhere before.

The Inside of Bruttenholm's library gave Sparrow a warm feeling. It looked lived in; nothing like the sterile, lifelessness of the rest of the building. Soft chamber music added to the comfort the room embodied. Almost all available space along the walls was lined with bookcase after bookcase. A spiraling staircase led to a second floor that seemed to be filled with even more old tomes. The most dominating feature of the room though, was what seemed to be a large fish tank. The aquarium spanned the whole wall, and contained nothing but cerulean blue water, with four golden podiums situated a few feet from the glass.

Sparrow hobbled forward, interested in a closer look. She gazed inside, noting the terrible blandness of the tank She peered closer, her nose nearly touching the glass. What fish in its right mind would want to live in a tank full of nothing? Maybe it wasn't a fish tank at all. Her thoughts were halted as two giant eyes appeared in front of her face. She let out a squeal of surprise. Stumbling back in shock, her right crutch caught on the bottom of one of the podiums, wrenching it from her grasp and leaving her floundering for a moment before losing her balance completely and landing squarely on her backside.

She now knew why the doctor had been so adamant about her not putting much weight on her pelvis. Sparks of pain licked up and down her torso, leaving her gasping for breath.

The creature in the tank placed a webbed hand over its mouth in shock.

"Oh dear, I'm terrible sorry," it said apologetically.

Sparrow's pain seized body wouldn't allow her to pull herself up, so she dragged herself into a sitting position with her back against one of the four podiums. She viewed the surprisingly human-like being inside the aquarium through teary eyes. Its body floated as fluidly as the water in its tank, and its baby blue face held a look of worry as he gazed back at her.

"Wha-What are you?" Sparrow asked, still wheezing from her recent accident.

The fish-man's face brightened with an amused smile. He flipped his legs and floated closer to the glass. He was very animated, never still. Even as he observed her, his body moved with the current of his confinement, head bobbing up and down leisurely.

"I refer to myself as a, who, if you don't mind," Sparrow's face flushed in embarrassment, "but I believe that in proper etiquette, if one wishes to know another's name, one must offer theirs first." The creature extended his hand forward until it was touching the glass of the aquarium. The fingers of his hand distended passed anything humanly possible, stretching the thin green webbing between each of the digits taut. "Let's see...Sparrow R. Wilson. Never knew your father. Mother died giving birth to you in a back alley. The hospital staff named you after the street the paramedics found you at. Hmm. Rather dreary thing to be named after isn't it?"

Sparrow stared down at the carpet. That was a bit more than just her name, and his accuracy unnerved her.

"It doesn't really bother me."

"Yes, it does." The creature said matter-of-factly. Sparrow frowned.

"Don't get angry. I know what it's like, being named after something horrible. Look, there, on that scrap of paper."

He indicated to a small piece of parchment with an elegant wave of his hand. It was nailed to a pillar next to his aquarium. From her sitting position, Sparrow could make out the gothic text:

Icthio Sapiens

April 14, 1865

"I was found with that bit of paper. Professor broom named me after the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln, which occurred on that date. He was shot in the head. Quite gruesome, really," he contemplated this for a moment, difting languidly in the water. He sighed and continued, "Hence, my name, Abraham. You may call me, Abe, if you wish."

"Abe, huh?" She said quietly as moved to sit Indian style. She wondered why she wasn't more weirded out with the whole situation than she currently was. Oh well, she thought, at least she was beginning to enjoying the conversation. "That's a better name than Sparrow any day."

"Perhaps." Abe mimicked her sitting position while floating upside down. "You are not as shocked as most when they first see me."

"Yeah," Sparrow laughed shakily, "it's a bit hard to be unnerved with you after meeting Hellboy!"

"Ah," he replied, "so you've met the giant monkey then, huh?"

There was a pause, then, "He's a monkey?!"

Abe blinked for a moment before flinging his head back and laughing richly at her confused appearance.

"Oh-oh my-ha ha- pl-please excuse me. Ha-ha ha ha!" He calmed himself, twirling in the water and rubbing some laughter from his eyes before he continued, amusement still danced upon his big blue face. "I should remember to control my humor with you! I mean, after seeing us, why shouldn't you believe everything you hear?"

After her initial embarrassment subsided, she watched the movements of the still convulsing Abe. Suddenly the absurdity of the whole situation hit her. Here she was, sitting on the floor having a chat with a talking fish. This was the most surreal moment of Sparrow's young life. Even more so than her brief meeting with Hellboy. Watching him move about the water, almost like dancing, reminded her of something she couldn't put her finger on. Something primal, a natural urge that had been shoved aside.

Sparrow rubbed a clammy hand over her face.

"This is so weird."

The sobering Abe smiled gently at her, but didn't disagree.

She looked around Abe's barren tank.

"It must get pretty boring in there. Do you ever get to leave?" She asked.

"Oh, rarely is it boring. Take now for instance, look at the interesting person I'm speaking to. I'd hardly call this boring. Plus, I have many books at my disposal, all I need is someone to turn the pages," he flitted down settled on the floor of the aquarium, hands clasped behind his head, "As for whether I get to leave or not? The answer is yes...and no. I can leave the confines of my tank for short periods of time, but rarely do I get to leave the compound, and, for obvious reasons," he gestured to his face, "I cannot go outside for an afternoon stroll."

"Do you go places with Hellboy and John? You know, action, adventure, and all that stuff?" She queried.

"Yes, but I never feel like I've really left..."

"Like there's a wall blocking you from everyone else?"

"Yes, a wall not so different from the glass of my home," he rapped his scaly knuckles on the glass of the aquarium.

"Isolated..." Sparrow whispered, more to herself.

"It seems, despite our difference in appearance, we have very similar souls."

Sparrow was no longer looking at Abe, her gaze unfocused on the floor. "Ever since John and Hellboy have left, I've felt so alone. Your only the fourth person I've really met here. Everyone else, they stay away from me. I hear them whispering behind my back...they say I killed someone." Abe was silent, staring somberly at the crestfallen young girl. She continued, "And...that man in the infirmary... They say I hurt him real bad."

Abe cocked his head, "You...do not remember what brought you to this place." Sparrow noticed he said it as though he already knew. 'How can he read me so effectively?' she thought.

"Well, do not fret," he continued, "All will be fine in the end, and you will get the answers you are looking for."

She listened to the sagely amphibian's words and believed him. Him. The third person to tell her that, and he was the person she truly believed. They looked into each others eyes and smiled, both knew they made a connection to each other, a bond that would be hard to break.

The serene moment was broken by the intrusion of a bewildered voice:

"Sparrow!"

It was John, accompanied by Bruttenholm and the hulking figure of Hellboy. John rushed from the entrance of the library towards her.

"What happened?"

"I-I came to the library and I fell. It hurts too much to get up."

Myers helped her to her feet with a grunt. A wave of dizziness swept over her and she had to squeeze her eyes shut for a moment to regain her balance. When she opened them, Hellboy stood before her, holding her crutches out to her in his large stone hand. As she took them from him, she couldn't look him in the eye, for fear she would burst out laughing as she remembered Abe's words. The image of the giant demon, covered in fuzz, performing backflips for bananas danced across her mind.

Abe's chuckle reverberated around her. That proved it. Fish-man could definitely read her mind.

Hellboy was about to comment on their odd behavior when Professor Bruttenholm stepped in and placed a fatherly hand on Sparrow's shoulder.

"I see you've been finding your way around, Miss Wilson," he said warmly, a smile playing on his lips.

"Yes. Yes I have," Sparrow hesitated, "Professor, I have some questions-"

"Which will be answered tonight, rest assured." The young girl felt relief flood through her. She looked over at Myers, who was mouthing a confident 'I told you so' in her direction. She had the sudden urge to stick her tongue out at him, but stifled the

impulse.

"For now, I will ask Hellboy to accompany you back to your rooms. Agent Myers, Abraham, and I have a few things to discuss."

Sparrow craned her neck up at Hellboy. He had a sour look on his face that reminded her of a pouting child.

"Shouldn't I be involved in whatever you guys are talking about?" He asked with a huff.

There was a long pause.

A very long pause.

Myers broke the silence, "We're just going to write up the official report for the case we've come back from. It's no big deal. Plus, you were there, you know nothing important happened."

The demon looked convinced-almost.

"What he means, Red, is that you lack proper group discussion skills and we need you out of the way." Quipped Abe from the inside of his tank.

Sparrow would have never thought it possible, but Hellboy actually got redder at Abe's words.

"Shove it up your ass, Blue!" he yelled. Then turned and stomped off with Sparrow limping to catch up. She looked over her shoulder before leaving the library to give Abe a friendly smile of goodbye, which was returned by her fishy friend.

For the first time in a long time, Sparrow was happy.

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews. They've really boosted my confidence in my writing. Please keep it up with any suggestions so I can improving myself. I hope to have the next chapter up in a few days, where a plot will begin to form...hopefully! ; )**


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